


Under the Assumption of Death

by texasislandr



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Near Death Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texasislandr/pseuds/texasislandr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident leaves both Merlin and Arthur's lives hanging by a limb, literally. I assure you this is NOT a death fic. Feel the angst, and just ride the story out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Over the Ledge

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin or any of its characters, though I really wish I did lol!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or it's character ^^

AN: Thank you to the amazing Amphigory for the wonderful piece of fanart for this story!

Chapter 1: Over the Ledge

Merlin watched in complete horror as the unstable ground beneath the Prince gave way with a loud rumble. ‘No, no, no, no…’ he screamed in his mind.

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe--he just acted. His feet pounded urgently across the short distance, his body thrusting forward with all the force he could muster. Just as Arthur’s blond head disappeared over the ledge, Merlin’s lanky frame landed and fanned out on the earth. He skidded painfully across the rocks that lay in his path, each tearing at his skin. The momentum carried his torso over the edge, his arm surging forward in a desperate attempt to grasp whatever part of the Prince he could grab hold of.

In a moment tinged with brief relief his fingers curled around his master’s forearm. He tightened his hold, and tried to brace for the inevitable burden.

No amount of preparation seemed to help, and a cry of pain escaped through Merlin’s clinched jaw as soon as Arthur’s fully armored body wrenched his shoulder taut. Despite his best efforts to prevent the unavoidable, gravity took hold and Merlin followed Arthur over the ledge--shouts from the knights following after them.

He still held firm despite the shock of being pulled over. He tried to keep his wits, and grabbed at the outward growing branches a couple of meters down. His ribs struck the rough bark, and with a whoosh all his breath was pushed out of him.

Having no air left within his lungs, he couldn’t help but let out a silent bellow as the Prince’s descent was once again stopped beneath him. Merlin could feel the chain mail slipping through his thin fingers. ‘Don’t let go!’ he pleaded with himself. ‘Hold on tighter!’ But his master’s arm still slid down further. When the feeling of Arthur’s calloused hands reached his own, he went rigid and clutched with pure desperation. Merlin’s heart beat forcefully within his chest, his eyes pinched closed with strain. It felt like eternity before he managed to suck in a rapid breath, followed by another, and another. His lungs were panting with exertion.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted below him.

Slowly the younger man opened his sapphire eyes only to look directly into the Prince’s periwinkle ones. “Arthur,” he hissed, gazing intently into his master’s distressed features below. A small huff escaped the prince, and briefly Merlin thought he saw the evidence of a hesitant, if not shaky, smirk.

“I know you tend to follow me around like a lost puppy…but over a cliff, Merlin!” he ground out breathlessly “…It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Well excuse me…” Merlin gritted, taking a breath. “…next time I’ll let you fall, you prat!”

“Can you pull me up?”

“I…” Merlin hesitated. ‘It’s all I can do to bloody hang on!’ his mind screamed wretchedly. A small cramp began to build and he let out a hiss of air and closed his eyes tightly, burying his face into the bark of the tree, scratches etching onto the ridges of his prominent cheek bones.

The silence spoke volumes. Arthur watched as Merlin seemed to try to collect himself, it was obvious that the younger man was in pain, the strain quickly getting to him. The prince could feel the tremble in his own muscles as he fought to hold onto his servant’s hand. If he as a trained warrior felt such a burden, he wondered how much more Merlin was experiencing.

“Your armor,” Merlin finally bit out. “God!” he hissed again.

Arthur knew this was not going to end well; the weight of his armor was too much to even expect one of his knights to bear. ‘It’s a miracle he’s held on as long as he has,’ he thought dejectedly.

Unexpectedly, there was a deep groan, followed by a cracking noise that echoed out from the wood to which Merlin clung. ‘This is it,’ he thought. It was going to give way, they were both going to die if this continued, and he wasn’t sure he could bear the thought of that.

“Merlin, listen to me!” he commanded. “The branch isn’t going to hold. It’s breaking under our weight; you have to let me go.” He had to make sure at least one of them had a chance to make it out of this.

“You’re crazy!” Merlin huffed.

“Then if you won’t, I will.” Arthur stated simply, his grip on his manservant’s hand releasing in time with his nervous breath.

The prince watched as Merlin’s eyes snapped open in horror, alarm flashing across his hardened features.

Merlin shook his head adamantly and hoarsely shouted an abhorrent “No-!” Tears leaked from the warlock’s eyes, but he didn’t care, nor did he feel ashamed. He had always been perceived as weak, but this time, he was determined to disprove the common misconceptions about his character. With unwavering resolve, Merlin strengthened his previously faltering hold.

The wood cracked again, and with a look of dread Merlin looked deep into the prince’s eyes. ‘I can’t let this happen,’ he reasoned. ‘Not when I can do something about it.’

“I’m sorry” Merlin choked, his voice trembling from anticipation.

Arthur’s heart constricted as he saw his servants orbs fill with regret, salty drops cascading down his face.

“It’s alright Merlin, you tried. Don’t blame yourself… promise me.”

“No!” Merlin growled numbly. “You don’t…you don’t understand. I’d never let you go” he panted. “Never!”

Arthur watched as a frightened yet determined look filled Merlin’s eyes. “Merlin, let go!” he pleaded. ‘Please.’

“You have to know that I’d do anything for you, Arthur Pendragon…anything it takes to protect you. To save you,” he pressed, inwardly begging for future acceptance. ‘Please understand--it’s the only way.’

With a deep trembling breath, he reached out for his instinctive magic. “With a deep necessity, he clawed at the power he had been born with. No words were needed.

He watched as Arthur’s eyes reflected like mirrors, showing his own depths as they swirled into pools of gold. Almost instantly the prince’s expression morphed into alarm, and Merlin had to quickly look away. ‘Focus,’ he told himself. ‘Focus on what you have to do.’ Gathering his will, the warlock pulled with a forceful tug. He growled as he lifted himself up, pulling the prince up with him.

He could hear the shouts of the knights above them, they had never stopped their yelling, but they had yet to seem relevant to the situation until now.

“Get him!” Merlin bellowed, following suit with a mighty roar as he heaved with his magic.

Arthur flew upwards and over his friend’s head, a cry of torment tearing from Merlin as his shoulder cracked and popped in an unnatural way. He felt his burden lighten and looked up through blurry eyes, as several knights lead by Sir Leon pulled Arthur up and onto the safety of solid ground. ‘I did it!’ he thought relieved.

The prince immediately twisted in the knights’ arms and watched as Merlin fell back and landed harshly against the tree. “Merlin!” he shouted with an outstretched hand.

The boy simply looked up at him, his eyes once again deep pools of blue, and lay there boneless, exhausted, and fully spent. A weak surrendering smile played on his lips, clearly directing it towards his master.

“Told you I’d do anything” he whispered, his small voice lost on the breezes as they drifted past.

When the cracks around him returned and multiplied, he knew that the branch that had been steadily weakening had finally given way.

He closed his eyes in resignation, and could hear the horrified shouts above him. His stomach quickly rose into his throat as gravity gathered him into its unrelenting embrace. The air whipped harshly around him in a lud roar, and Arthur’s cries could no longer be heard over it.

It was then that he let the mercy of unconsciousness seize him from his pain. His last thoughts were of his mother, of Gaius, and of Avalon. He had done what was required of him. Arthur was safe.

Art by: Amphigory

 


	2. The Fall

Chapter 2: The Fall

Arthur listened in confusion as his servant swore to never let go, that he’d do anything for him. Tears spilled unabashedly down Merlin’s flushed cheeks. Arthur was about to respond to Merlin’s ramblings when he watched the familiar blue eyes transform into shimmering pools of molten gold. 

‘What the…!’ His heart was seized with trepidation, his mind muddled as he tried to process what he was witnessing. ‘It can’t be—he can’t be’ but the evidence was right before him. ‘Sorcerer!’

Merlin closed his eyes, turning his face away from him with a look of shame and disappointment. Without warning Arthur felt Merlin lift him slowly, the grip on his hand so tight that it felt like the bones inside were grinding together. From above him, Merlin gave out a sharp hiss of pain, the effort off pulling up Arthur’s weight etched clearly on his strained features.

“Get him!” Merlin bellowed out desperately towards the knights above. Before Arthur could even choke out a word he was wrenched upward with such force he could only gasp in surprise. 

In the blink of an eye he was above his servant, a horrendous shout of pain coming from below him. His breathing ceased, his chest constricted, and suddenly several pairs of hands were grabbing him. Arthur was pulled up and over the ledge, his body coming to rest on the solid earth that was now beneath him. 

His hand burned, but instantly he felt the onslaught of panic that struck him when he realized that Merlin’s hand was no longer latched on to his. ‘No-!’ his mind roared.

Immediately he turned and fought to peer over the edge. He could see Merlin fall back, the younger man’s body coming to rest like a detached marionette across the sparse branches below. “Merlin!” he shouted, extending his hand in a desperate but futile attempt to reach his manservant. 

The warlock looked fractured, and the small sad smile that crossed his face could only be read as understanding. Merlin was well aware that the situation was hopeless, and he was surrendering willingly into the hands of his fate. 

He watched Merlin’s lips move, but the utterance never reached him. Despite the silence Arthur knew that the words were directed at him.

When the sound of splintering wood filled the air, he heard several of the knights gasp in horror. “No!” he screamed in distress as he watched Merlin’s eyes slip closed -- the small tree breaking free from its perch. ‘This can’t be happening!’ 

As Merlin began to fall, Sir Leon moved quickly and encircled Arthur’s waist, fighting to pull him back. He struggled when his men dragged him further away. As his knights pulled him to the ground, he lost sight of the descending form of his friend. Ignoring Arthur’s shouts and the unusual tone of attachment in his voice, the knights kept him pinned to the ground a few meters from the cliff’s edge. “He’s gone, sire!” Leon choked. “There’s nothing more that can be done. Do not torment yourself by watching it happen.”

“He saved my life,” Arthur whispered in shock, his mind silently interjecting the words, ‘with magic.’ 

“He did so with as much bravery as any knight among us. He died with honor, and we will all testify to that,” Leon said.

Arthur could say little in response. He kept silent, trying desperately to school his features. His eyes stung with tears that he was forbidden to shed. ‘A prince cries for no man,’ he scolded. 

He stood with the help of his men, his body aching from its previous exertion, but his heart hurt far worse than he thought any part of him ever could. 

Merlin was a warlock. He had lied—but what he had done just now was something so few would have ever done. Arthur could not bring himself to feel anger or betrayal, only pain and the consuming emptiness of loss. Merlin had magic. ‘And I could bloody care less,’ Arthur concluded.

“What of his body, sire?” Bedivere inquired hesitantly. “I willingly offer my services to search for its retrieval.”

Arthur felt nausea slithering up his esophagus. “No!” he hissed purposely. “I must go also. He was my manservant, and my responsibility.” The words ‘and my friend’ hung in the air unspoken. 

None of the knights argued the matter, but simply followed in silence. There remained no conversation between them as they quietly mounted their horses.

Arthur moved to take the lead, trying to ignore the empty saddle atop Merlin’s mare as he trotted past. He clench the reigns tighter within his hands, urging his horse to move faster. Swiftly he put as much distance as he deemed wise between himself and his men. He wanted a chance to be alone with his thoughts.

The knights did little to try and close the extended gap between the prince’s horse and theirs, for they also felt grief whenever a man was lost. Truth be told, they had all held a soft spot for the lanky, often clumsy servant. His heart was as big as his ears and his eyes as bright as his smile. They would all miss the little farm boy, whose loyalty and dedication to their prince rivaled their own.


	3. Returning Empty-handed

Chapter 3: Returning Empty-handed

Hours of searching went by fruitlessly. Arthur stood on the stony bank, watching the rushing rapids of the river sweep by. The tree that Merlin had clung to in order to save his life lay splintered and broken on the shoreline. The prince’s ears were roaring, though whether that was from his own chaotic thoughts or from the turbulent waters sweeping by, he did not know. 

‘You have to know that I’d do anything for you,’ a voice whispered in the wind. It made him shiver. ‘I’d never let you go…never!’ 

Instinctively his fingers clung to a familiar well worn neckerchief. It was snagged on one of the branches, and his chest had stiffened when he first spotted the tattered fabric as it fluttered softly. It was the first thing the prince had seen as he rode up to the scene, and in the end had proved to be the only thing that remained of his friend.

He had been staring out in absolute silence for several long minutes now, before Leon took the brave initiative to approach him.

“Your majesty?--sire, we must head back to Camelot.” Leon spoke softly before continuing in a voice laced with regret. “There is no sign; the river would have claimed him long before we arrived. It is unlikely that he will ever be found.” 

Arthur nodded, but did not turn to look at the man “I know,” he agreed. “Tell the others to prepare.”

The crunch of gravel beneath the knight’s feet signalled his steady retreat, and Arthur exhaled dejectedly. He turned his blond head to look over his shoulder at the men who were already mounting their horses. Once more he looked out at the rapids and took a deep breath, his fingers curling, knuckles turning white. The paleness of his skin a deep contrast to the red trinket he still held. 

‘I failed you.’ the prince admitted morosely. ‘I couldn’t even bring you home.’ 

Quietly he turned, and followed in Sir Leon’s path.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Just as the sun was beginning to settle low in the western sky, the prince and his knights clamoured through the gates. The horses’ hooves beat down and echoed loudly, the sounds bouncing off the massive stone walls. 

A deep sense of foreboding began to creep up Arthur’s spine as they neared the court yard. He tried to push his shoulders back and school his features, but his feigned carelessness was quickly deflated. The sight of Gwen waving at him from an upper window made him nauseous, but it wasn’t until he saw Gaius approaching with a fatherly grin that he had wished for the very earth to split beneath him and swallow him whole. 

He watched, guilt-ridden with dismay, as the old man quickly scanned the arriving party for his ward. He was painfully aware of each expression as it passed over Gaius’ aged face. The smile faltered and slid into confusion, before a questioning glance was sent his way. 

The prince could only guess that his own features had told the unspoken answer before he could even open his mouth. The physician suddenly grew deathly pale, as he watched the men before him dismount. 

Arthur walked over to him with a look of trepidation. 

“Sire…” Gaius barely breathed. “…where’s Merlin?”

The prince tried to find some words, but his vocabulary seemed to have fled into the farthest recesses of his mind. He looked down at the kerchief he had been holding like a lifeline, and looked up again to see a look of pure agony filling Gaius’ eyes. 

“I’m so…sorry,” Arthur choked, cursing his voice for betraying him. Gaius simply shook his head, lifting a wrinkled hand to cover his mouth. 

“No!” the man hissed, reaching out to take the fabric from the prince. “No…” he repeated. “…it can’t be. It can’t.” 

Silence hung between them for several moments while the older man seemed to compose himself. Unshed tears made his weary eyes glisten. “How?” he asked with a trembling breath.

“He…he saved my life,” Arthur said gravely. “I would have fallen to my death.” 

“His body?” the physician asked looking away. 

“Gaius, we tried—honestly we did…the river, it…” Arthur’s sputtering was silenced with a wave of the older man’s hand. Slowly Gaius turned away, quietly walking back in the direction from which he had come. The kerchief was clutched to his chest, his posture making him look as if he had aged years within just a few moments.

“Gaius…” the prince started. 

“Please your majesty, I…I need to be alone.” The old man spoke in a voice that resonated with tears. Arthur knew salty streams were already being released from the man’s eyes, for he sounded every bit a broken man.

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to gather and repress the feelings that he had been trying to keep in check. When he heard a familiar choked sobbing, his eyes snapped open. 

He turned his head to see Gwen, her beautiful faces contorted with an expression of misery. Tears fell in thick lines down her flushed cheeks. He didn’t even have to ask to know she had come down to greet them, and had instead overheard. ‘Oh god,’ he thought, his stomach plummeting. 

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

The first day after their return, Arthur had spent the morning reporting to his father. As expected the king had been thankful for his safety, but had cared very little for what he considered to be an acceptable loss of life. After listening to Arthur’s account, as well as that of the other knights, Uther had declared that the boy had died an honourable death. The man however, had not appeared to show any remorse, though Arthur had learned a long time ago to expect nothing different from the King. 

He had done well in masking his feelings, hiding the traces of fondness that he had harboured towards his servant. That was until his father had forbid him from attending the boy’s memorial, which was to be held that afternoon. Uther sat nobly, citing that it would be unbecoming of Arthur’s status to be seen at the burial of a peasant. Arthur was positive his father could read the anger in his eyes, but neither one of them said anything. He simply finished his duty and retreated from the throne room as swiftly as possible.

His body ached, leaving a constant reminder of the prior day’s events, but he couldn’t bear the thought of facing Gaius again to ask for a draught or salve. Instead, he spent several hours beating a practise dummy with his sword, letting his pain fuel him. 

Arthur loathed the fates of this world, but most of all he cursed himself. He was angered by his own inability to save the man who had chosen to look past his crown -- the same man that regardless of their differences had befriended him.

Despite the pain that radiated up and down his arm with every strike, he continued to lay into the dummy. The prince let the anger and grief within him express itself through every violent blow. His knights had passed by, but they wisely let him be. He was thankful for their silence, and their ability to understand his desire to remain alone.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN  
When the afternoon arrived he found himself sneaking off to follow those who had decided to give Merlin a service despite the lack of a body. His friends wanted closure and he could understand that more than anyone. 

He stayed hidden amongst the trees and watched as Gaius and Gwen laid flowers onto a small handcrafted raft. He recognised various other servants as they came forward. There were Mary and Beth, who spent endless days in the kitchens. Margret, one of the seamstresses, and Annabelle, the laundry lady, were also there. He could see Edward and Paul, the stable hands, and Lycroft, the city blacksmith. He was shocked when Sir Leon, Bedevere, and Percival arrived to pay their respects. He knew there were more, but he realized with unmerited shame that he didn’t know their names. He felt a twinge in his chest as he realized how many people had cared for his bumbling servant. 

One by one each person went forward and set an item on the raft. When it was full, Gaius moved forward with a torch that had been handed to him and set the craft alight. It was a moment of deep sadness as several farewells were uttered, and the flaming barge was pushed out into the still waters. Silently they watched it drift away, tears slipping past the women’s eyes and deep frown’s amongst the men. 

Gwen turned away and clutched onto Gaius like a father. They stood together for a few minutes, before he slowly led her back towards the castle. The others followed.

It was a short meeting, but most of the people attending had snuck away as it was. It would not be long before their attendance would soon be missed in their places of hire.

When he was sure that all was quiet and that he was truly alone, the prince moved forward out of his place of hiding. He moved to the edge of the shore, his body dropping down heavily onto a nearby boulder. Silently he watched as the small raft drifted further and further away, puffs of billowing smoke rising into the sky. 

“Goodbye Merlin,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. “…my friend.”

Memories of past adventures and odd conversations rolled around erratically through his mind. He wondered how much of what he remembered was actually real, how much was but part of a much larger picture, and how much was a total facade. If he was to ever know the truth, he would have to face the one person who most likely held the answers he desired.

He stayed sitting on the shore long after the craft had vanished, and long after the air had turned cold.


	4. Telling of Tales

Chapter 4: Telling of Tales

Arthur knocked hesitantly on the door of the physician’s chambers. His knuckles scraped across the wood before he let his fingers curl around the latch.

Quietly he entered the room, scanning the area until his eyes came to rest upon Gaius. The old man was turned away from him, his shoulders shaking with sporadic tremors. Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable, the prince made to leave as silently as he had come. When his foot kicked over a stray bucket, he cursed. The choked crying that the older man had been emitting was immediately stifled, and it was obvious that Gaius was trying to wipe at his eyes.

When the physician turned to face him, his eyes were red and sorrowful. There was no way for him to hide the fact that he had been grieving, and the awkwardness Arthur was feeling had risen to new heights. He almost felt ashamed for having invaded the man’s privacy; for he was obviously mourning.

“Sire?!” Gaius exclaimed. “I’m sorry; I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No,” Arthur pacified. “Don’t be sorry. It was I who intruded.”

“What is it that brings you here, your majesty? Are you in need of anything?”

“I’m fine Gaius, I just…I wish to speak with you in private,” 

“Of course Sire, what is it you desire to discuss with me?” Gaius asked.

“It’s about Merlin,” Arthur started, trying to ignore the look of hurt reflected in the older man’s eyes. “I always knew there was something different about him. He’s…” he stopped as a lump began to form in his throat and he couldn’t help but let out a harsh cough to clear the discomforting blockage. “…was special.” 

“Yes Arthur, he was. More than you’ll ever know,” Gaius agreed.

The prince nodded. “The thing is Gaius, I believe I do know how special he was, and the more I have thought it over since the…incident. I believe you knew also.” Arthur walked past the physician, who arched his brow in an assessing manner. The prince paused in front of a table when his eyes caught sight of a familiar object. It was Merlin’s blasted neckerchief. Hesitantly his calloused hands reached out and retrieved the tattered cloth that lay atop the wooden surface. For some reason, Arthur couldn’t help but feel comforted as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers. 

“What are you getting at, your Majesty?” Gaius inquired apprehensively.

“Merlin had magic.” Arthur stated without question. He looked up to meet the older man’s eyes, daring the family friend to deny it. It was obvious by the shock on the older man’s features that he was very surprised to say the least, almost fearful.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, Merlin would never…” 

“I saw his eyes,” Arthur interrupted. “I watched as they turned from blue to molten pools of gold, swirling with the very essence of magic.”

“Maybe it was a trick of the light. The sun…” 

“Gaius I am not a fool.” Arthur hissed softly, shaking his head. “…and nor am I my father. I haven’t come here to persecute you. I have come here to talk to you about a man that despite all I have been taught about propriety, ranks, and sorcerers—I considered him not as a peasant, not as an enemy, but as the closest of friends.”

Gaius sat down heavily on one of his stools, a deep sigh escaping him as he did so. “Merlin would have been very honored to have heard you say that, Sire.”

Arthur swallowed thickly. “So, I’m right? You knew about him?”

Gaius’ lips pursed into a thin line as he nodded, motioning with his aged hands for Arthur to take a seat across from him. “I have known from the first day Merlin set foot in Camelot.”

Arthur, who had just seated himself, looked up with interest “So he told you?”

“No” Gaius murmured shaking his head. “…quite the opposite actually, he saved my life. I took a fall from the upper bookshelf up there,” he said, pointing to the place across the room. “It was quite extraordinary really, he slowed time and moved my bed beneath me to break my descent. Before then I had never seen the likes of the boy before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Merlin didn’t use any incantations to do what he did. His magic was raw and purely instinctual. That is when he told me that he had been born with it. His mother Hunith had caught him moving objects around the house when he was but days old.” 

“Isn’t that impossible?”

“Technically no, but it is almost unheard of, if not completely until now,” Gaius said.

“So he didn’t choose magic, it chose him?” Arthur asked. 

“Indeed it did,” Gaius finished.

Arthurs head was spinning. Merlin had been magic from the moment he had drawn his first breath in this world. The very idea left Arthur reeling. “Why did he never tell me?” 

“He wanted to, Sire, I encouraged him not to follow through with it on several occasions,” he explained, but at the hurt look coming from the prince, Gaius decided to continue. “At first it was because he did not know you, nor did you know him. You were as against magic as your father at times then. When you two became closer it was because Merlin did not wish to burden you—to make you choose between your duty to your father and his laws, and your duty to him as his friend.”

Arthur nodded. “Did he use it often?”

Gaius smiled, a soft chuckle following suit. “More than I approved of, but the boy had a good heart. He so much wanted to help people, to help you--whenever he could.”

“Gaius?” Arthur started hesitantly.

“Yes, Sire?”

“Would you tell me about him, the side that you knew? The magic, what he did?”

The older man could see the pleading in the young prince’s eyes, the desire to know more about what was lost, the truth about what had been hidden from him. For some reason Gaius felt a surge of comfort. Merlin had wanted more than anything for his master to know of his gifts. He could think of no better way to honor his adopted son’s memory than to let the prince know what it was the boy had sacrificed and done for him.

“It would give me a great pleasure, Sire,” he answered softly. Quietly he stood from his seat and walked over to the end cabinets. He retrieved a dusty bottle from the back corner before returning. 

“What is that?” Arthur inquired.

“This, your majesty, is some of your father’s special wine. He gave it to me a very long time ago, and I had been saving it for a special occasion. I had planned to use it on Merlin’s birthday. He was coming of age this year.” A pained looked crossed his face. “I was going to let him celebrate, but I could think of no better a time to use it now.” Setting two goblets onto the table, he proceeded to fill each one before sitting back down. “This is a long story, Sire. I hope you are ready for it.”

Arthur nodded, his fingers twitching around the goblet within his hand. Softly Gaius began his tale of destiny, dragons, witches, afancs, and poisoned goblets--sidhe, gryphons, sorceresses, and questing beasts. He continued for hours, Arthur hanging on his every word, listening to each tale as it revealed the true extent of Merlin’s loyalty, dedication, and power. He sat awed at some points, laughter was spurred in others, and a few times his heart painfully constricted.

Their conversation lasted until the candles in the room had almost burned out; Gaius’ voice having grown hoarse with use. Tired both physically and emotionally, Gaius took his leave and retired to bed. 

An hour later found Arthur back in his room, starring out his bedroom window. He let his fingers run over the curves of the wooden dragon that lay nestled in his hands. It was the same one Balinor had made for Merlin, the dragon lord who was his servant’s father. He had told him that day “that no man is worth your tears,” but as he looked out at the twinkling stars, he couldn’t help but feel a familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes. He knew the truth now, and somehow it made the feeling of loss all the more unbearable. A choked sob escape his lips despite his best efforts. He clutched the rough carving to his chest, along with the neckerchief he had taken from the physician’s quarters. Unashamed in the privacy of his chambers, the prince shed tears for the only man he had found to be worth it.


	5. Bonds of Kinship

Chapter 5: Bonds of Kinship

Kilgharrah lifted his head, a soft moist breath seeping through his fangs. Magic was surging through him, his scales crawling with a heightened barrage of senses. 

“Merlin!” he growled, the deep guttural vibrations echoing off the cavern walls of his new home. He could feel destiny shifting and moving towards an abrupt end. The prophecies of old were shattering, falling void into the deep abyss of nothing. ‘It’s not possible.’ 

His eyes widened and glowed brighter, his mind humming with a new awareness and sight. “This cannot be allowed to happen!” he hissed urgently, moving his claws beneath his heavy frame. 

With a groan he hefted his aged form up and swiftly moved forward, emerging out of the darkened crevice. His massive form slid beneath the water fall that shielded his hiding place, water spraying out in all directions as he passed through. 

He squinted when the brightness of the sun struck his eyes, pausing but for a moment before he continued forward into the clearing. The reptile lifted his leather wings, spreading them out in an awesome display. The magnificent span dwarfing the very trees that surrounded him. Tilting his head up, he released a great roar and lunged into the air. He headed north in the direction that the Old Religion called to him from. It urged him forward, his magic heeding its pressing call.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

The air whipped around Kilgharrah at great speeds, clouds parting as he blew through them. He flicked his wings behind him, tilting his body down in order to dive towards the earth below. The landscape was but a blur of color as he continued to travel downwards. Merlin was near. He could sense the presence of the young dragonlord now. Reaching out with his mind, he sought contact with his kin. 

“Merlin!” he called telepathically. “Mer-lin!” 

When no response came he stretched his neck taut, trying to dive as fast as gravity would allow. Kilgharrah prepared himself just as the river below him came into view. He counted down in his head, calculating the distance as the earth quickly approached. 

“Now!” he growled, letting his wings extend and catch the wind like a giant canvass--slowing his descent. With a mighty flap of his wings he broke the dive, thrusting his body forward with the infallible skill of one who had lived over a thousand years. He stretched out his legs, his large claws slicing through the water beneath him playfully. With another beat he lifted higher, his magic now screaming with intensity. He focused his golden gaze on the surrounding cliff face and watched as a familiar raven haired boy came into view. 

The young warlock was falling, his lanky form aimed straight for the river below. With a huff, the beast shifted, turned, and counted. ‘1…2…3!’ he extended his claws with precision. His giant hands wrapped around the boy’s fragile frame in a far more delicate way than anyone would have thought him capable of. A low chuckle of success rumbled in his throat, as he glided his reptilian form out of the ravine, his cargo clutched securely beneath him. 

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Merlin’s first flash of awareness did not come with a sense of relief or euphoria at the simple knowledge of being alive. There was only pain, horrible and all encompassing torment forcing him to gather his features together. He tried to move, but was soon rigid as the sudden shift in posture sent fiery needles down the length of his arms and back. 

‘Oh God!’ Immediately his breath hitched, his body fighting the urge to writhe. Salty tears began to gather behind his closed lids and harsh, shallow pants tore from his lungs. 

He was faintly aware of a distant voice calling to him, but his mind could not grasp the words that were being spoken. Almost like an enveloping blanket, a soothing warmth blew over him like a gentle breeze, bringing with it relief that spread through to the deepest recesses of his body.

His ears began to ring, and gradually they cleared allowing the sounds around him to come into focus. 

“Easy, Merlin,” a familiar, reverberating voice hissed. 

Suddenly Merlin was aware of the cold rock that rest beneath his prone body, the air around him cool and moist—a stark contrast to the warmth he had felt moments before. Hesitantly he let his eyes flutter open in order to view his current surroundings. Immediately he found himself starring face to face with the large beast that had yet to cease its vigil, hovering over him like a large tower.

“Finally you’re awake,” it stated needlessly.

“Kilgharrah?” Merlin whispered hoarsely.

“It is I, young warlock,” The Great Dragon said.

“What did you do to me?”

“Fear not, I have simply alleviated the pain in which you found yourself so helplessly captive.”

The young man nodded gently in understanding. “Thanks.”

“A warning…” Kilgharrah began, looking at the boy with intense eyes. “I cannot heal you. Your injuries remain. The pain will return fully in time, but this will help you accomplish the task ahead of you.”

“Task?” Merlin questioned. “I’m still trying to figure out how I got here. Last thing I remember I was…” 

“Falling” the dragon supplied. 

“Yes” Merlin agreed, turning his body over. Carefully he began to lift himself off the ground, a startled noise escaping him when his left arm gave out and sent him face first into the hard floor of the cavern.

“Owwww!” he hissed, his chin impacting the stone with a thwack.

“As I said before, I could not heal you. The damage to your arm is significant—the appendage will be most useless to you for now.” 

“I understand,” Merlin groaned, trying to gathering his knees beneath him. “How did I get here?”

“I foresaw your destiny coming to an end; I could feel the ancient prophesies vanishing from the plains of existence. Your premature end would mean the loss of Arthur. The loss of the Once and Future King would mean the loss of all Albion. The old religion called me forth to prevent such a disaster from occurring. It was not your time to cross over into Avalon,” the dragon declared. “I snatched you from the very air as you fell to your demise, and then I brought you here. That was yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” Merlin yelped, his mouth agape. ‘I’ve been out a day,’ he groaned inwardly, closing his jaw with a click of his teeth. He sat for a moment in contemplative silence before letting out a resigned sigh. “I guess this means I owe you.” 

A deep chuckle rolled out of the beast. “As always.”

Merlin frowned, an uneasy expression washing over his face. “What of Arthur? I know he saw me do magic. I was looking him in straight in the eyes as I did it. And surely, he and the knights could not have missed the sight of you?”

“I was not seen; no one laid witness to what transpired. As for the young Pendragon, I could hear his calls for you. To describe the noise as primal would be an understatement indeed. One’s voice only utters a sound like that when one has lost someone close…a friend perhaps.”

Merlin’s throat constricted. “He thinks me dead then?” 

“By now, all who knew of you would be grieving for their loss,” Kilgharrah said flatly. 

A horrified look crossed the young man’s features, the color draining from his face as nausea began to take over. He moved to cover his mouth, but cringed--his right arm rising up to cradle his left. 

“You felt something?” Kilgharrah hissed incredulously. “You must leave,” he growled urgently. “The spell is not holding as well as I had hoped.”

“Leave?” Merlin protested. “I don’t even know where I am.”

“You are close enough, though by foot it will take you a great deal longer. This cave resides behind the waterfalls of Elliand.”

“We’re in Camelot! We…we ride by those when we hunt for boar,” Merlin stuttered with surprise.

“Don’t pretend to be so shocked. You are not the only one capable of ignoring another’s command. Besides, had I left Camelot you would be dead, and all hope of the future lost with you.”

“So you’ll be here then.” There was a faint smile that played on the boy’s dirty face, an expression that appeared to be almost suspiciously pleased.

Kilgharrah nodded in understanding. “Anytime you need me, young warlock, I’ll be here. You have precious little time, and we have wasted much with idle talk.”

Merlin looked down with a heavy sigh; his fingers now massaging the damaged arm unconsciously “Thank you again,” he whispered.

His reptilian kin hummed and turned away. Merlin, taking the action as a clear sign of being excused, moved away from the beast and toward the sound of roaring water. He was startled and almost slipped when the dragon’s whisper of ‘good luck!’ invaded the quiet of his mind. 

‘Bloody dragon!’ he complained, regaining his balance. He chose to ignore the deep chuckle reverberating behind him from somewhere in the darkness.


	6. Back from the Dead

Chapter 6: Back from the Dead

Merlin had travelled for over 5 hours. His sweat was running in multiple rivulets down his face despite the chilled air against his wet skin. Gradually over each hour that had passed, he had become increasingly uncomfortable. The slight tingling made way for stinging, the stinging submitted to burning, and the latter rolling into just plain misery. He could no longer move the giant torment that was his left arm and shoulder, his fingers even becoming mercifully numb over the last hour or so. His legs were barely cooperating with him anymore. Both appendages felt an awful lot like jelly beneath his tired frame. 

He felt dizzy and his stomach rolled each time a wave of vertigo swept over him. The palm of his right hand was scraped raw from the repeated times it had compensated for his lack of balance by clinging desperately to the rough bark on the surrounding trees. Many times he had failed even that, the evidence clearly seen by the torn holes that marked his breeches just at the knees.

Every time he would feel like he could go no further, a familiar land mark would cross his path, and a deep swelling of hope would bubble up and convince him to continue moving forward. ‘Keep going,’ he would chant to himself repeatedly ‘…do it for Arthur, for Gaius, for mother,’ he would add. 

As the hours passed, it began to seem as if even all the hope and encouragement in the world could not make him plod any further. He huffed with exertion, his vision blurring into globs of undistinguishable color. He probably wasn’t even aware when his magic had taken hold over his motor skills, guiding him through the final trek. 

The skies grew darker and darker, before long he could see only shades of the deepest grey that grew steadily to black. He didn’t even notice when the castle had fallen into view, nor did he feel the difference when the earth changed from dirt to cobblestone beneath his boots.

The guards’ demands of “Halt! Who goes there?” went unheeded. 

Merlin’s feet continued their unsteady pace. Only as the clanging of metal on metal signifying armoured bodies rushing forward to intercept him did his magic release him from its hold. All at once his knees buckled beneath him. His breath rushing out with a shuddering cry as his body struck the ground painfully. 

The servant’s eyes rolled over the shadows hovering over him. He felt the touch of foreign hands on his trembling legs. Mumbled voices spoke to him, and he opened his mouth to try and speak, but no words passed his lips. The only sound he made came in the form of a whimper, followed by a scream as one of the faceless figures pulled at his injured shoulder. It was as if a fire had consumed him, and the last threads of his consciousness were snuffed out like a candles flame by a swift breeze.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Arthur had stood before his hearth, staring into the dancing flames before him. He had been focusing on memories of both recent and past events, when he was startled out of his reverie by a knock at the door. ‘Damn it’, he groaned. All he wanted was to be left alone. 

Soon the knocking echoed again, this time growing louder and more impatient. “Your majesty!” He heard a muffled call. “Sire!”

It would be fruitless to ignore the disruption, so turning from the warmth of the fire he looked over at the large double doors serving as a barrier between the unknown and him. “Come in!” he commanded.   
He didn’t know what he had expected to see, but he was positive that Leon bursting in, pale and out of breath certainly wasn’t it.

“At the gates…I couldn’t believe…I came immediately.”

“What are you going on about, Leon?” Arthur asked apprehensively.

“He’s alive!” the knight gasped, his face as white as a ghost. “The boy, Merlin…he’s alive!”


	7. Seeing is Believing

Chapter 7 – Seeing is Believing

When the guards had burst into Gaius’ chambers moments earlier the older man had jumped in surprise, his heart slamming to a standstill--sleep fleeing from him in haste. He sat up in his bed, sudden rushes of adrenaline surging through him in droves and bringing with them stronger awareness.

The complaints that had been so quick to rise up from his throat quickly died on his lips. His eyes widening in obvious shock, as the men who had just disrupted his sleep clamored in with a limp and tattered body hefted between them. ‘It can’t be’ he choked internally. He didn’t have to see the figures face, he’d recognize that mop of raven black hair anywhere—matted with mud or not. “Merlin,” he whispered sadly, unable to look away from the boy who had been as a son to him. 

“Where was he found?” Gaius asked, rising to his feet.

“He stumbled through the gates not fifteen minutes ago. He’s not responsive. Sir Leon sent us here immediately.”

Gaius’ chest seized, his thoughts never making it past the word ‘stumbled.’ All his hopes clung desperately to that one verb; he prayed that he’d heard correctly.

“He’s alive?” he hissed. 

“Yes, but he lost consciousness almost as soon as he entered the gates,” The man explained. 

“Bring him here!” Gaius ordered, motioning to his bed. “Lay him down.”

Carefully, the two men lowered Merlin’s thin frame onto the physician’s humble mattress, Gaius himself hovering unnecessarily close as they did so. As soon as they moved away, Gaius rushed into action. His hand brushing against his apprentice’s still warm skin, he couldn’t help but smile in genuine relief. ‘Praise be.’ 

Gently he began cutting the neglected fabric off of Merlin. He cared little for trying to save the garments, as it was clear that the items were far beyond salvaging. 

He leaned over the young man and began to touch the various bruising that mottled the boy’s torso before gravitating towards the darker patches that spread around his shoulder and arm. The old healer didn’t have to be a physician to notice the odd positioning of the left shoulder or the abstract angle of the elbow below. The entire appendage was swollen and disfigured. ‘Oh Merlin,’ he thought sympathetically.  
“I need you to hold him steady.” He instructed, easing the boy’s jaw open to slide a thick strap of leather in between his teeth. “This will be quite painful,” he stated with undertones of regret as he positioned both his aged hands on the swelled joint. ‘I’m sorry, my boy,’ he silently apologized.

The chamber door was thrown open at that moment, the solid wood striking against the opposing wall with a resounding crack. There standing in the opening was Arthur, his blue eyes glistening with barely concealed hope. “Gaius?!” he implored. 

The physician knew full well what the young man wanted. “He still breathes, Sire.” 

Arthur positioned himself at the side of the bed, pushing a guard out of the way as he did so. “How is this possible?” he breathed, looking over his servant’s face. He noted the scrapes and dirt and his eyes traveling down to the slow rise and fall of Merlin’s marked chest. He decided it was one of the greatest things he had ever seen. 

“Forgive me, Sire, but I must fix the dislocations immediately. They have been unattended for far too long as it is. He could lose the use of his arm--if he hasn’t already.”

Arthur’s head snapped up, moving so he could see past Gaius’ broad form. With instant regret he wished he hadn’t. His servant’s arm was a disturbing sight indeed, and guilt began to gnaw at him once more. 

“Please help hold him,” Gaius requested. The prince nodded and had just began to carefully hold his servants torso, when in a sickening pop and jerk the physician manipulated the arm and slid the joint back into place. The sudden action brought Merlin cruelly back to consciousness, his jaw clenching around the obstruction in his mouth--a muffled cry of misery following suit.

“I’m sorry, dear boy. It’s necessary. You’ll feel much better when I’m finished,” the old man murmured chokingly, stroking the messy hair back away from Merlin’s pinched eyes.

Soft, heaving sobs continued to make it through the blockage and the prince had to close his eyes. Gaius pulled and twisted Merlin’s elbow, producing an equally shuddering sound. He knew it was coming, braced for it even, but the tormented shout still stung. 

“There there, Merlin. The worst is over,” Gaius whispered consolingly. Moments later, it was apparent that the young man on the bed had fallen back into merciful darkness.

“How is he?” Arthur asked quietly. 

“It’s far too soon to tell. I have yet to fully examine him, but the damage to his arm appears to be the only serious injury.”

“How can that be? I saw him fall.” The prince spoke in wonder. “How does one survive such a thing? If I did not see it with my own eyes, I would not believe it.”

“I can scarcely believe it either, but I will hardly complain,” Gaius supplied, motioning to the guards and relieving them of any further duty. 

Arthur nodded, never looking away from his manservant, even as the door closed behind him. “Do you think it was magic?” the young prince whispered.

“I believe the only one who can tell us what truly transpired is Merlin. It will do us no good to try and concoct frivolous stories to appease our curiosity. We must simply wait.”

Arthur nodded. “What needs to be done? Are you in need of anything?” 

“I will need to examine him and make sure there are no hidden injuries; I shall also be cleaning and attending to his wounds. Even a minor cut can become infected and wreak havoc on the boy. As for supplies, I believe I have everything I need right here at my disposal,” Gaius stated, eyeing the prince as he did so. “If I may, Your Majesty, I do believe you should go and rest. There is very little to be done here.” 

“I would rather stay.” Arthur spoke hastily, biting his lip when Gaius raised an eyebrow at him. “That is…if it would be alright with you.”

The physician smiled understandingly and turned back towards Merlin. “You can stay for as long as you’d like, Sire.”

The two men continued in silence. Arthur watched as Gaius cleaned his friend’s wounds with great delicacy. Occasionally he offered a helping hand, but for the most part he was content to just watch. Arthur was simply relieved to have the man who had so unselfishly done so much for him alive and breathing before him.


	8. The Awakening and The New Begining

Chapter 8 – The Awakening and The New Begining

Hours later there had been a short awakening, and a small ripple of relief flooded through the small inhabitants that had been present in the small room. Merlin managed to croaked out a few words, drank some water that Arthur offered him, and quickly slipped back into sleep.

Gaius had fretted at first, fearing that Merlin would lose the use of his arm, and the thought of the young man being forced to cope with such a disability for the rest of his life had made Arthur shudder. He had spent hours feeling regret for an injury that was inflicted just so that he might live. Arthur had sworn that if the appendage was indeed lame, he would make sure that Merlin would not suffer any loss for it and that the boy would be taken care of, whether his father would approve of his desicion or not. This was a promise he had made to himself. 

The next morning there were discoveries and awkward conversations about death and magic. At one point, Gaius had thought Merlin would pass out when they told him Arthur knew. His ward’s face had quickly been drained of all color. They pacified him, but it was clear that what little they did discussed had worn the boy out. 

Merlin did give them the gift of relief when he flexed his fingers briefly before quietly returning to sleep. Gaius informed the prince that the movement meant that the arm had not been permanently damaged, and with time the mobility should return. There was still a possibility that the arm could be weaker than before, and the physisian had said it would always be more susceptible to being dislocated again, but it would work and that was all that mattered to Arthur in the end.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

That afternoon, Arthur returned from his duties to find Merlin sitting alone on the bed, back propped up by a mountain of donated pillows. His arm had been immobilized with tight bindings that wrapped and held the appendage against the boy’s bare chest. 

They both stared at one another in uncomfortable silence, neither having had the chance to truly discuss with the other what their new-found status was.

“You’re looking better,” Arthur ventured. 

“Gaius says I can get out of bed later today as long as I don’t try and do anything stupid,” Merlin said.

“That’s good” Arthur nodded, trying to figure out his next move. He had almost decided on how to broach the subject when Merlin finally beat him to it.

“How much do you know?” Merlin whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I know you know about me, you told me as much. You also said you didn’t care, but how much did Gaius really tell you?” Merlin had been ready for ‘some’, or ‘a bit’, but when the blond moved towards him and actually answered, his stomach flipped. 

“Everything,” Arthur answered. “And apparently I am not responsible for as many heroic deeds as I have been lead to believe.” 

“You did many heroic acts,” Merlin started, his lips curling into a smile. “You just had a little help doing them is all.” 

“Modest,” Arthur smirked, directing the word at the younger man.

“Well then, maybe now I can finally get the credit I deserve,” Merlin grinned, then his smile faltered. “Where does this leave us now?”

“Same place as before, in a way,” Arthur answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed “...but different at the same time.”

“I always thought you’d be mad,” Merlin said ruefully. “Thought you’d throw something at me at least...or something.”

“Well maybe I would have been, and for a moment I guess I was at first...” Arthur hesitated. “...but then I was no longer waiting to plunge to my death, and instead I was watching as you fell in my place. Harboring anger over kept secrets didn’t really seem to matter at that moment.”

“And after?” Merlin asked.

“I didn’t seem to matter then either. I know it should have. I had thought about it, but as far as I knew you were...dead, and I couldn’t—not at you,” he explained. “Not after what you did, and after my talk with Gaius, I would have been a real prat if I could have found a reason to hold a grudge then.”

“Thank you for accepting the truth, for accepting who I am,” Merlin aknowledged gratefully, looking away.

Arthur smiled, and took a breath. “I know I said we could never be friends, and I know that no one could ever know any different, but I wanted you to know, Merlin, that despite everything I’ve said that I do consider you my friend. Assumedly, your’re probably one of my only real ones, and I do and have appreciated the things that you’ve done, and the sacrifices you have made. You’re a good man, Merlin, better than I deserve somtimes, but I’m glad you stay. ” 

Merlin felt the heat rise in his cheeks. such attention was not a regular occurance in his life. He found the praise, though comforting, quite embarassing at the same time.

“I stay for you, Arthur,” he revealed. “You, too are a good man, and I have said before that you will become a great king. What I have done is for who you are, and who you will be. It’s my destiny.”

“So you stay because you are bound to a predestined fate?” Arthur asked.

The warlock frowned and could swear he heard disappointment in Arthur’s tone. “At first,” he admitted, “...but know that I do it because I believe in you Arthur, and I trust you. I, too consider you a friend, despite what I have been raised to believe, just as you have overcome the beliefs that you yourself have been taught in order to accept what I am.”

“You’ll always stay, won’t you Merlin?” Arthur asked hopefully. 

“Who else would make sure to keep you’re ego down a few notches and dare to call you a prat? Besides I believe I told you before, if you remember, that I’d be happy to be you’re servant till the day I die.”

The prince snorted. He then moved to hold the younger man’s gaze with a look that spoke volumes. “You won’t always be just my servant, Merlin,” Arthur promised. “Things will be different when I am King.” 

“I know,” Merlin murmured knowingly. “but that’s not why I stay.”

Arthur closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”

Together they smiled.

Somewhere in the depths of his cave the dragon chuckled, his golden eyes shining. The future looked bright indeed.

 

FIN :)


End file.
